But We Thought You Were
by Xandrew157
Summary: Just as Brennan and the others find out about Booth and Zack's relationship, a new case turns up that has everyone on edge. Brennan and Cam have to overcome their confusion about Booth in order to solve the murder. MM Slash: BoothZack. 2 more chpters!
1. Thoughts One

This is, quite obviously, a slash fic featuring Booth/Zack. Not any graphic sex... I wanted to keep a little dignity in the story. (Don't misunderstand; I like reading graphic slash fiction.) Anywho, the ever necessary disclaimer: I do not own Bones and/or any of its characters. Enjoy.

Chapter One

"The bones are going to be delivered here at noon," said Dr. Temperance Brennan as she walked into her office. She was immediately followed by FBI agent Seeley Booth.

"What else do we know about the case, Bones?" Booth asked, using the nickname he had so affectionately given to his partner. "Where was the skeleton found?"

Brennan eyed Booth suspiciously. She could tell that he was dying to ask her something else but was reluctant to do so. Finally, she answered. "A nearly complete skeleton was found in the ground behind a large manor. Some family named Browder."

When Booth laughed out loud, Brennan was momentarily disarmed. "What's funny now?" she asked.

"I can't believe that the _Browder_ family is now involved with a murder case. It's kinda ironic," Booth started to say. "The family owns several chains of banks. They're loaded… and really irritating. I've had to deal with one or two of them during investigations."

"Right…"

"Say, Bones… is anyone else in the lab today? I mean, is there anything for anyone to do before the new case gets here?"

_Now _that's_ what Booth's been wanting to ask_, thought Brennan. "Just Zack," she said, carefully regarding Booth's expression. She could tell that that was the answer he had wanted to hear. "Hodgens and Angela aren't supposed to come in until eleven thirty to prep for the new case."

"Thanks. I'll… be around. See you, Bones!" Booth said as he left her office. In a hurry, too.

Trying to remove the thoughts of Booth from her mind, Brennan picked up reading a science article about a new archaeological dig in Kenya, Africa. But this time, not even fascinating descriptions of a dead culture could keep her curiosity from taking over.

0-0-0-0-0

"Morning, Zack," said Booth amiably as he strolled into the near empty lab. He could see the new and improved Zack Addy standing over a workstation. From his distance, Booth couldn't tell what it was that the former grad-student was working on, but it was most likely another one of his "toys."

"Good morning, Detective Booth," Zack replied with absolutely no enthusiasm. In fact, he was rather cold, even for his normally standoffish demeanor.

Booth walked towards the young man, admiring his body. Ever since Angela had given Zack a makeover, Booth couldn't stop imaging him naked. Of course, Booth _had_ seen Zack naked… several times. Now, because of a three o'clock court appearance, the official new employee was dressed in a smart looking suit.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah," said Booth coming up behind the young man, "You can. How about letting me help you relieve some of the obvious tension that's built up…"

The man reached underneath Zack and put his hand firmly on the scientist's crotch. Booth began rubbing roughly, making the other man almost instantly erect.

"Come on," whispered Booth into Zack's ear. "Nobody's here. Let's go into Angela's office and fuck our brains out."

Zack turned around to face his lover. "No," he said firmly.

"What?" exclaimed Booth, shocked at being rejected. "Why the hell not?"

The younger man glared at him angrily. "You know why, and if you pretend otherwise then my opinion of you will be further degraded."

"Don't be such a fucking woman, Zack. Denying sex that we both want will get you… I mean, us… nowhere," reasoned Booth.

"What do you mean, 'stop acting like a woman?' I thought that wanted a girlfriend. Because you obviously don't want a boyfriend… you just want a guy that you can fuck anytime you want to."

He had struck a nerve. "That's what this about? No, Zack, I'm not ready for a gay relationship. I've only had one before, and it went really badly."

"So it has nothing to do with the fact that you're in the closet?" demanded Zack.

"It's not like you're out either!" yelled Booth. "Don't be such a hypocrite!"

Now it was Zack's turn to be furious. "You don't think I'm brave enough to tell people I'm gay? If it would make you happy, I'll tell Brennan, Hodgens, and Angela today. Even Camille, though I doubt she cares. Is that what you want?"

Unfortunately, Booth was thinking with his dick instead of with his head. "I don't know. I just know that I need you."

Apparently pleased, Zack turned around and kissed Booth. "Then let's go," he said with a grin, leading the older man by the tie over to Angela's office. "We'll talk about this later. But you have to promise me that we will."

"I promise," Booth said before he kissed Zack again and shoved him roughly through the door.

The couple hadn't noticed that they were being monitored.

Unable to stop herself from appeasing her curiosity, Dr. Brennan had followed Booth, staying back to avoid being seen. But she had seen everything.


	2. Thoughts Two

Chapter Two

Now in a private area, Booth and Zack were passionately kissing, their hands exploring each other. Both of their dress jackets were off, the ties they had been wearing thrown to floor.

Booth shoved Zack onto the couch. He knelt down, unbuckling the man's belt and pulling down his pants to reveal a pair of black briefs. Pulling his lover close to him, Booth kissed him again and unbuttoned the white dress shirt, exposing Zack's hairless but attractive chest.

After a few more minutes of foreplay, the couple began making love. Although seemingly rough, Booth was quite a tender and compassionate lover. As young as Zack was, the FBI agent wanted to take no chances of hurting him no matter how many times they did this.

Fifteen minutes later, Booth lied panting on the couch, Zack laughing as he pushed the larger man off of him.

And that's when Dr. Temperance Brennan walked into the room.

0-0-0-0-0

At first, the men didn't notice her. She stood there quietly, observing them, determining exactly what they were doing. It took her a matter of seconds to confirm that they were, well… engaging in sexual intercourse.

Remaining in the doorway in complete silence, Brennan waited for Booth and Zack to notice her. Which they did after a few seconds more.

"Holy shit!" yelled Booth as he saw her. He was so surprised that he didn't even bother to push Zack away or get up, let alone cover his apparent nudity.

Brennan smiled at the couple, a reaction neither men would have thought possible. "Well, I must admit that this is a bit of surprise. Booth, you seemed to embody the whole testosterone-filled, masculine image of a supposedly typical heterosexual man. Who knew?"

The men took a moment to process this. "Wait," said Zack, "then you suspected _me_ of being gay?" Booth just groaned.

"Actually, I hadn't noticed either way, but I do know that Angela and Jack once bet on how long it would take you to either recognize your sexuality and/ or 'come out.' Whatever that means. Anyways, the others will be here in about ten minutes."

"Make that zero," called out a voice. Angela walked into her office and stood shocked at the site before her. Within a few seconds, Hodgins was right behind her.

"It seems like Booth and Zack used their free time to engage in… other… activities," said Brennan calmly, reverting to her logical state of thinking. "I suggest we let them… finish up and then get dressed."

"We're done," said Booth, gently lifting Zack off of him. He quickly covered himself with a nearby shirt. Zack grabbed his underwear and hurriedly put it on, avoiding the looks of his coworkers.

"Okay…" said Angela as she shut the door, giving the two shame-faced men their privacy. And whatever was left of their dignity, they got to keep too.

0-0-0-0-0

"Are these the new bones?" asked Zack as he came out of Angela's office, buttoning his dress shirt back up and putting on his jacket and lab coat. "I thought they weren't getting here until noon."

Standing at the head of the table, Brennan didn't bother to look up from her preliminary examination. "Yes, Zack, they are. If you could start examining some of the wounds on the femur, that would be very helpful."

The scientists didn't say anything other than short, noncommittal sentences describing their findings. Obviously, Zack was embarrassed by the act that his teacher had witnessed. However, their brief reprieve of nonchalance was interrupted by the arrival of Angela.

"I'm here for the skull, if you're done with it," she said, standing by Brennan. She was silent for about thirty seconds before she asked the inevitable question.

"How long have you and Booth been seeing each other?"

Trying to remain focused on his work, Zack replied shortly and curtly, "We're not. Not really."

"So it's just sex?" the facial reconstruction expert probed further.

That was when Brennan interrupted. "This is rather inappropriate, especially for the lab. Angela, here is the skull. If you need anything else, then feel free to ask me. Zack, go and tell Jack that he might want some of the dirt from the case the skeleton was found in. There are most likely insects and larvae in there also."

"Do I have to?" Zack asked meekly.

"I'll do it," volunteered Angela. Before Brennan could reject or say anything about her orders being followed by the person to whom she had assigned them, she was gone.

"Thank you," Zack said after a few more minutes of silence.

Brennan finally broke. Anger, irritation, and pity had all been raging inside of her ever since she had opened that office door.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Zack? How could be sleeping with _Booth_?! I understand the desire for recreational sex, but this could and probably will interfere with your work. It was ridiculously irresponsible. If Camille had caught you…"

"If I had caught Zack doing what?" came Camille's voice from behind her. With his head down, Zack hadn't caught sight of her until it was too late.

Their boss stood in front of them expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Well? What did you Zack? I'd much rather here it from you then Brennan."

Reluctantly and slowly, Zack answered her. "I was engaging in sexual intercourse in Angela's office."

Hearing those words coming from this particular employee was too much for Camille. She burst out laughing. Loud, raucous laughter that nearly caused her to collapse on the ground.

"You slept with Angela?" she said, gasping between breaths. "That's… great."

"Actually, no. I said that I had sexual intercourse in Angela's office. The person was Detective Booth."

And now Camille nearly choked. Not from laughter, but from shock. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. You and _Booth_?"

"We all saw them," said Brennan. "But apart from the impropriety of their conduct, I don't think that Mr. Booth and Mr. Addy committed anything of grave nature."

"That isn't for you to decide," Camille barked defensively. "I need to go," she said, practically running out of the lab.

0-0-0-0-0

"Can you believe it?" asked Hodgins as he scraped the inside of the metal box the skeleton had been contained in. "I mean, Booth, gay? Guess it just shows you that not all homosexuals are feminine. Not that I actually thought that."

"I'm not a homosexual, you dunce," said Booth, coming out of Brennan's office. "I'm bisexual. Sleeping with women kind of takes away the title of gay."

His total nonchalance about the whole thing surprised Jack and Angela. They had assumed he would act like the whole thing had never happened.

"So are you and Zack together?" Angela asked, diverting her unanswered question to the only other person who could answer it.

"I don't do relationships with men," Booth answered. "They just don't work out."

Now Hodgins got to ask a question. "Does Zack know that? That you'll never have a relationship with him?"

"Yeah, of course," Booth quickly answered. "At least, I think so. You see, he kind of wants a relationship, but I keep avoiding talk of it. Until last night."

"What did you to him?" demanded Angela, coming up to face him. "Did you break his heart?"

"I seriously doubt that, Angela," said Hodgins, continuing his work, "or they wouldn't have been having sex on your couch."

Raising her eyebrows, Angela ignored her boyfriend and looked expectantly at the FBI agent.

"You could say I pissed him off. And/or upset him. Greatly. But, come on… did it look like he was too heartbroken?"

"Probably," Hodgins said, contradicting his previous statement. "We men will fuck even if we're upset with the person we're fucking with."

That happened to be when Camille came storming into the area. "Booth, my office, now."

She went into her office and waited for Booth to follow. As soon as he was in the door, she slammed it and glared furiously at him.

"So, what, now you're gay?" she demanded.

He laughed at her. "No, I'm the same as I've always been. Bi. If I'm with a woman, then I say I'm straight. If I'm with a man, I'm gay. It's simpler that way."

"You just got tired of me, then?" Camille asked.

"No, Cam, I just wanted a man, okay?" he yelled back angrily. "And you know, I actually like Zack. I _really_ like him. So don't fuck this up, please."

"What am I supposed to do about this?" she said, her anger slightly mollified. "Just ignore everything?"

Booth thought for a moment before replying. "I guess that you could send out a memo reminding everyone that sex is not allowed anywhere in the institute. And you can punish us however you wish. But I want to make sure that our jobs are secure. You can't take out a vendetta against Zack or me."

"Relax. Your jobs are safe. I'm not going to fire a brilliant scientist like Zack Addy just because I don't want him sleeping with you. And I like you, so you'll stay."

"Thanks, Cam," said Booth with a large smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get busy with the new case. I'll talk to you later."

Cam cocked her chin as she walked her old flame walk out. Sitting back down at her desk, she considered what the day's revelations would mean in the long run.


	3. Thoughts Three

Chapter Three

"And this is what our John Doe looked like," explained Angela as the entire squint team plus Booth stood around looking at the facial reconstruction. "Do you have an approximate age so I can start going through missing persons?"

"Uh…" said Brennan blankly, distracted by Angela's playfulness with Hodgins, "Yeah, I've already analyzed the bones. He was killed most likely five years ago."

"What evidence do you have to make us believe this was a murder?" asked Booth. "I mean, besides the fact that the body was discovered in the ground."

_Those two just won't stop with foreplay_, Brennan couldn't help but think as the continued teasing between Angela and Jack became more and more obvious.

"While the cause of death has not been ascertained, the bruising of the wrists and the ankles shows evidence of bonding. In addition, part of the skull was fractured, though, individually, that could be attributed to accident. However, I think that the simple and irrefutable fact that the body was found in a metal box should establish homicide."

Everyone took a moment to process the information.

"What should we do now?" Zack asked, anxious to keep working on the case. If everyone stayed distracted, then nobody would start questioning him again.

"I ran some tests on the dirt and insects that were inside," volunteered Hodgins, laughing slightly at the end of his statement as Angela tickled the palm of his hand. "While we know that the container was found somewhere right outside Washington, the soil displays some unique qualities that eliminate the surrounding area as the original source."

"So where did our body come from?" demanded Brennan.

Hodgins answered methodically but quickly. "The location isn't exact, but I believe that our John Doe was murdered somewhere near Baltimore. One of the components I found is produced from only certain industrial plants. The nearest is there. The next closest are New York and Pittsburgh."

"Was there anything else?" inquired Booth. "Anything that could help me limit the search radius?"

"Yeah," continued Hodgins, "there is. And it's rather interesting… and disturbing. I think we're dealing with an expert entomologist. The insects that I found aren't native to North America, and they're not even allowed in the US because of the danger they present."

"And that means what?" Brennan asked. "Our murderer illegally shipped a package of insects? How dangerous are they?"

"These aren't just ordinary insects," explained Hodgins, grimacing at Brennan's impatience. Something must be bothering her to make her this annoying. Ah, that's right. Booth and Zack. "These insects can eat through a body in less than forty-eight hours. It's obvious that the murderer never wanted this body to be found, but he tried to make damn sure it would never identified if it was."

"Do you think that these insects are responsible for the death?" Zack inquired with interest. "I mean, our cranial fracture could have been post-mortem or even completely benign."

"Yes, this particular species doesn't mind eating living flesh," Hodgins answered. "Believe me, if you can find out who ordered them, you will more than likely have your killer."

Keeping up with his now epic-length explanation, Hodgins said, "These insects are notorious for acting as if it is frightened of predators, then swarming in large numbers and killing whatever was threatening it. They're also very rare… not to mention wanted for their value as a tool of assassination."

"Since when do people use insects for assassination?" asked Angela, interested in what Hodgins had said.

"You'd be surprised," he returned.

"Then you would believe the official cause of death to be…?" Booth asked impatiently.

"I won't go into the details, I'll just tell you simply," Hodgins offered. "He was eaten by bugs. Whether he was alive or not can't be told for certain, but like I said, these critters like living tissue."

"Then we have some computer research that needs to get done," said Booth. "I'll go tell Cam."

0-0-0-0-0

Accompanying Angela reluctantly back to her office, the scene of the dastardly crime, Zack was taciturn and rather reluctant to respond to anything Angela asked, regardless of the subject.

The two had sat at the her desk for almost half an hour when Angela finally asked the question that had been truly bothering her ever since that morning.

"Why didn't you tell me you were gay? Or Jack, even? And _why_ did you sleep with a woman if you knew you were gay?"

Zack really didn't want to answer, but he felt obligated to tell one of his best friends the truth.

"I wasn't completely certain of how your reactions would be. Yes, I assumed you would be perfectly comfortable with my sexual orientation, but Jack is my roommate, and a high percentage of heterosexual men are uncomfortable even being around a gay man, let alone living with him."

"It's _Hodgins_, Zack. Do you really think he'd kick you out even if he _was_ uncomfortable with it? No. Now answer my other question."

That answer Zack was certain of. "I had to do it once. Just once. It was experimentation. And it confirmed that I had no physical attraction to women. I just acted like I had enjoyed it so that it would seem natural."

"Well now be yourself," Angela said. "Like you always could have been. But please, Zack… don't fuck around in my office. Hygiene, you know?"

The friends laughed and continued with their work.

"I've found it!" shouted Angela with glee twenty minutes later. "Cameron Brockman, age twenty-three, missing since 2001. His photograph almost perfectly matches my facial reconstruction." There was a picture of an attractive young man with short brown hair, soft features, and large blue eyes.

"The date matches the timeline that Hodgins and Brennan drew up," amended Zack. "And he's missing from the Baltimore area."

He waited very impatiently as the printer whipped out the copy of the missing persons report. Then they ran out to find Brennan and Booth.

0-0-0-0-0

"And you're sure this is him?" Brennan probed as she read the report Angela had so eagerly given her.

"Absolutely," said Angela, a little offended. Bones usually never criticized or questioned the accuracy of her work. _She must be having a pretty hard time on this case or something_, thought Angela. _God, she has _got_ to get laid. Maybe we'll find her a nice hunky doctor_…

Brennan looked down at her watch. "Zack, don't you have someplace to be?" she asked.

Checking his own watch, Zack agreed. "I've got to leave," he said frantically, noticing that it was almost two forty. "Tell Dr. Saroyan that I'll be back as soon as I can," he yelled back.

"Sure!" Angela assured him, laughing at the antics of her friend.

Even Brennan was amused at Zack's tardiness; he was so intelligent but sometimes he allowed time to get away from him.

"I can't believe that Zack has his first trial today," said Angela excitedly. "He must be _so_ nervous."

"Let's just hope that he doesn't err," Brennan answered unemotionally, continuing with some piece of work or another.


	4. Thoughts Four

Chapter Four

"Can you tell us, Dr. Addy, what it was that you found on the bones of Ms. Sara Pullen?" asked the stern-faced lawyer.

A few months before, Zack had participated in a case that, of course, had gone on to become a trial. Since his "promotion," Brennan and Camille had been preparing him to testify as an expert witness. Zack had a feeling that they'd be using him a lot, if not for experience, then at least to avoid doing it themselves.

"To begin, a large piece of the cranium was missing. I also found that the right arm had been broken," replied Zack, a little anxious about testifying for the first time. The thought of contributing to whether or not a murderer was convicted _was_ a little nerve-wracking, after all.

The lawyer continued with her direct examination. "Were you able to establish the cause of these injuries?"

"Using my knowledge of tools, I matched the puncture wound to one of the defendant's saws. The tool also contained a small, almost overlooked blood sample that matched Ms. Pullen."

"What about the broken arm?" pushed the persecutor further.

Zack continued with his testimony, just as he had rehearsed both at the lab and at the DA's office. "According to the fracture pattern, the manner in which the bone was broken was violent."

"Please elaborate, Dr. Addy."

"A natural break would have looked differently than that of Ms. Pullen. Rather, the break in her arm is conspicuously unnatural. Part of the break seems normal, but the rest is was actually sawed through."

The lawyer ended her direct with the question, "So there is no possible way that Ms. Pullen's arm was accidentally or naturally broken?"

"No, there isn't. The arm was deliberately broken and cut."

"Thank you. I have no more questions."

0-0-0-0-0

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asked the judge as the jury foreman stepped up.

"We have," she replied with an air of solemnity. "We, the jury, find the defendant, James Norton, in the count of murder in the second degree… guilty."

All around him, Zack could hear sighs of relief from the prosecutors. It had taken the DA nearly three months to build a case against this murderer, and in all honesty, they probably would have lost without his testimony.

After the court let out, Zack was approached by one of the opposing council.

"Dr. Addy, correct?" asked the surprisingly young lawyer. It would have made more sense for the defense to use an older and more experienced attorney.

"Yes, that's me." Zack had decided to interact with the man. He _was_ kind of cute.

The defense attorney smirked at him. Not a condescending smirk, though; it was definitely flirtatious. "I was wondering if I could ever convince you to join me sometime."

"I'm sorry, but it's Jeffersonian policy to provide testimony only for the prosecution," Zack said firmly.

"I'm afraid you've misunderstood me," said the lawyer with a small laugh. "I was asking you out on a date."

"Oh," said Zack. "Oh, oh…" he continued, just now understanding. "Well, I'd love to, but…"

"But, what?" asked the cute lawyer. "You're not gay? I'm rarely wrong about this sort of thing."

"No, I am," Zack assured him. "But I sort of have a boyfriend."

"I see," the attorney said, obviously a bit disappointed. He pulled out a card and handed to Zack.

"If you break up with this boyfriend sometime soon… or just want to hook up… then give me a call." Then he walked away.

Before he was gone, Zack called out to him. "What's your name?"

The lawyer turned around and smirked. "Michael." With that, he left.

0-0-0-0-0

Half an hour later, Zack walked back into the Jeffersonian. He was now tired from everything that had happened that day and was ready for Hodgins to take him home. Sitting down at a table in the lounge area, he didn't get the chance to ask his roommate for a ride. Within minutes, he was asleep.

"He looks so peaceful," said Booth, sitting across from his lover. Ten or fifteen minutes had passed since the scientist had laid his head down.

"I know," said a voice from behind him. "He always looks that way when he sleeps. Haven't you ever noticed?"

"Yeah, Hodgins, I have," Booth returned irritably. He swiveled the chair around to face his coworker. "Do you have something to say to me?"

The entomologist glared at him. "Actually, yes. I think that you're hurting him. Whether he knows it or not, your relationship with him is causing more harm than good. A lot more harm."

"What the fuck do you mean?" demanded Booth. "How am I 'hurting him?'"

"Are you serious?" said Hodgins, shocked. "This relationship is absolutely _toxic_. No matter how many times you fuck him, he'll never get what he wants. A boyfriend. Someone to love him."

Booth was silent for a minute. Then he said, almost in a whisper, "But I _do _love him."

"Then why won't you commit to him?"

"What do you know?" asked Booth, his anger returning. "Before this morning, you didn't even know that your best friend was gay."

"Yeah, I live with the guy and couldn't tell that he was a homosexual. I figured it out a few weeks after he moved in. Don't even try to pull that card with me. Now answer my fucking question."

For once, Booth was stumped. He had nothing witty to say to that. After several seconds, he finally managed to answer. Truthfully.

"The last time I had a relationship with a man," began Booth, "my life got royally fucked up."

Clearly interested, Hodgins pursued the story.

"We were eighteen and in our senior year. I had already slept around with quite a few girls but knew I wanted something else too. We saw each other one day in the locker room. After everyone else left, we jerked each other off under the hot water of the shower."

As a heterosexual man, Hodgins was slightly put out by the description of homosexual erotica, but he continued to listen.

"We started doing everything two horny gay or bisexual men could do. Two months into our relationship, his dad walked in on us having sex. He chased me out of the house, but Danny was in the hospital for a week."

"I stayed with him every single day, leaving only to avoid his mother. She only visited for a few minutes to pray, crying, over her son as he slept."

Now Hodgins was riveted with the FBI agent's anecdote.

"He finally recovered and we thought that we could go on like it was before. But things just got worse."

"There was a special spot where we went to just get away from all the shit of the world. It was a nice beach with a large rock formation where we could sit and talk for hours and hours. One day, we went out there. We had moved into this tiny one-bedroom apartment and felt practically invulnerable."

"That night, we didn't know that the local football team was having a bonfire party at the beach. Danny and I had been there since early afternoon and hadn't expected a bunch of visitors."

"Once we realized what was going on, we tried to sneak away to avoid any… unpleasantness," Booth said with a snort. "But then some soap opera typical shit happened. Some idiot jocks chased us down and knocked Danny down. He hit his head on a rock. Died instantly."

Hodgins was now in shock. He'd never imagined that Booth's past was so intensely sorrowful. "Were they prosecuted?" he asked softly.

"Somewhat. Two of the football players got fifteen years for man slaughter. They claimed that our 'inflammatory disregard for social norm' caused their homicidal urges to just 'spring up.' They were out eight years later. I know… I kept track of everything they did."

Their talk was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Brennan then appeared at the top of the stairs, looking expectantly at her colleagues.

"Have the two of you argued, reconciled, and gotten ready to help me with this case?" Brennan asked, her tone completely devoid of any intelligible emotion.

Booth smiled teasingly at his coworker. "Of course, Bones. What else could we have been doing for the past ten minutes?"

"I don't know, and I don't really care," Brennan said, "I just want everyone to get back to work. _Including_ Zack."

"Uh, Bones?" said Booth. "First of all, if you haven't noticed, Zack's had bit of a hard day; you could cut him a little slack."

"We don't have time for _slack_," Brennan said defensively.

"And _second_," continued Booth as if he never been interrupted, "It's almost seven. We should all be going home to get some rest. It's not time to be working hard."

"Guess that means I have to wake him up anyway," said Jack regretfully. "I always hate waking people up. It's so invasive."

Booth stayed his friend's hand. "Don't," he said. "I'll take him home."

"But I'm going; I might as well take him myself," Hodgins argued.

"I didn't mean _your_ home, Jack," explained Booth. "Zack and I need to have a long, private talk. And we should do it tonight."

Hodgins nodded his head, knowing that the next day, things would be different for his friend. Either he would be the happiest man on earth, or Zack Addy would be the most miserable.

_Please tell me if you have any suggestions on the Booth/Zack thing. I've refrained from a lot of NC-17 description, but if the people want it, I will give it to them. Let me know._


	5. Thoughts Five

Chapter Five

"Where am I?" asked a groggy Zack as he tentatively opened his eyes. Darkness seemed to be everywhere, but with bright lights on the edges of his vision.

Then he heard a laugh. Not a harsh or malicious laugh, but a reassuring one. A familiar one. Booth was with him.

"We're in my car," answered Booth. "Going home."

"Oh," said Zack with disappointment. "Did Jack forget me when he left?" he asked.

Another one of Booth's comforting laughs. "On the way to my home, Zack," he said. "I thought we could use some time to talk things over. Especially after this morning."

Regardless of his lack of social skills, Zack had a fairly good idea of what was going to happen. It was simple logic, really.

If Booth no longer wanted to have a relationship, sexual and nothing else as it seemed to be, then they would not be going to Booth's place. The FBI agent would have simply ended everything at the Jeffersonian.

That must mean that Booth wanted something real. Something that other people would see, something that would mean everything to Zack.

Relaxing, Zack laid his head against the back of his seat and enjoyed the ride. Booth had the radio on some rock station and was in the music.

Except that one of his hands was on Zack's knee. And for once, there was nothing erotic about this interaction; it was strictly reassuring.

0-0-0-0-0

Lying on the couch, Angela had her head in Hodgins' lap. They were watching a horror movie despite the fact that Angela despised them. She knew that allowing Hodgins to "comfort her" would increase his sense of masculinity.

Surprisingly, Jack hadn't told his girlfriend about Zack going home with Booth. When she asked where he was when they started to leave the Jeffersonian, he had said something about Zack having other plans. For some reason, Angela hadn't pursued her question to get a clear answer.

By now, she had apparently grown tired of not knowing, so she pursued. "What kind of plans did Zack have, anyways?"

"Plans with Booth," Hodgins said, finally giving in.

Interested, Angela asked, "Dinner? Dancing? Come _on_, Hodgy, give me something else to work with. I need details."

"I don't really want to talk about it, Ang," Jack refused.

The couple was silent for a few seconds. "So do you want to talk about it?" Angela finally asked, looking at Hodgins expectantly. "Not about Zack's plans with Booth, though. The other 'it.'"

"Talk about what?" he asked defiantly. He had his suspicions about what his girlfriend was referring to.

"You _know_ what. Zack."

"What about him?"

"Are you upset about him being gay? I'll understand if you are," counseled Angela. "I mean, I know we once bet on how long it would take for him to come out, but we really were just joking…"

That just served to irritate her boyfriend further. "No, Angela, I'm not upset. To be honest, I'm a bit surprised that it hadn't come up before." He was silent for about fifteen seconds. Then he began to speak again. "A few weeks after Zack moved in here, I found a file on the computer marked 'Zack's Tax Information,' after going through a bunch of other folders."

"Don't tell me that you _looked_ in it!" exclaimed Angela, shocked that a conspiracy nut such as Hodgins would ever snoop through someone else's computer files.

"Yeah, I did. Come on; 'Zack's Tax Information?' What could he possibly have taxes on? He doesn't have a car, a house, or anything else really."

"So what did you find?" Angela asked. After hearing the beginning of such a story, she had to hear the end.

Hodgins built up to a big finish. "It was an enormous collection of gay male erotic stories."

Angela laughed. "It was a bunch of _stories_? I thought it'd be a bunch of…"

"Porn?" Jack laughed. "Please, we're still talking about _Zack_, Angela. Do you really think that Zack would a porn collection?"

The couple began laughing. Then Angela leaned up, the laughter gone from her face. "Can we look at it?" she asked, her face dead serious.

Hodgins led her over to the computer. Looking through Zack's stories, the couple amused themselves for quite a while. Well, at least Angela did. She rather liked some of those stories.

0-0-0-0-0

"Do you want something to drink?" Booth asked as he and Zack walked into his living room. "I've got some beer and a few sodas."

"Do you have anything else?" asked Zack. "Carbonated beverages aren't really my thing. And I don't like drinking alcohol."

"How about some papaya juice?" Booth asked, holding up a pitcher.

The scientist smiled appreciatively as Booth poured out two glasses of the juice, bringing them over to the table.

Then Booth looked at Zack. He really, _really_ looked at him, as if trying to read into his soul. "Let's talk now," Zack said, wanting to know whatever is was that Booth needed to say to him.

Booth took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Zack, there's something I've needed to say for a while. It's something that I've been cruel not to say, and I am so sorry for that." The first dramatic pause. "Zack Addy, I…"

He paused again for additional dramatic effect, but the entire moment was ruined by the ringing of Booth's phone. Disappointed, Zack jerked his head to where the phone was lying on the table. "Go answer it," he said.

Walking over to the table, Booth started to pick up his cell phone, but then did the unthinkable. He threw it down on the floor, walked back over to the couch and kissed Zack squarely on the mouth.

Leaning back, he finally said the words that Zack had wanted to hear for a year and a half. "Zack Addy, I love you."

Now it was Zack who fiercely kissed him. Then he broke it to ask, "You know what this means, don't you?"

"I guess we're going to start having lunch together at work and will probably suffer from bad jokes from our painfully insensitive coworkers?"

"No," grinned Zack, seeing that he had stumped his boyfriend. "Now I get to call you Seeley in front of everyone."

His child-like innocence brought even more excitement from Booth. The FBI agent grinned, kissing Zack all the more passionately.

0-0-0-0-0

The next morning, Zack woke up next to Booth, something he had wanted to do for so long. Usually, Zack snuck out of his and Hodgins' place and Booth drove him back before his roommate woke up.

Booth rolled over to face his lover. "Morning, Zack," he said lovingly, giving Zack a small kiss on the lips. "Want some breakfast before we go into work?" He got out of the bed, giving Zack a beautiful view of ass as he walked to the kitchen.

"Just give me another glass of juice," Zack called out after him. "Do you mind if I shower?" he asked.

"Don't bother to ask," Booth replied, "Help yourself."

Not used to sleeping in the nude, Zack felt oddly liberated as he walked completely naked from the bed to the shower. He basked in the hot water as he stood motionless in the stream of water.

The sound of another person nearby startled him, but he soon realized that it was just Booth… no, Seeley… getting into the shower with him. This was something new.

They said nothing as Seeley held him, the water pouring over them. Then Zack felt soft smooth kisses all along his neck as his lover moved his hands to his ass, rubbing those large strong hands against him, feeling his body. Zack could feel his excitement against his back but ignored it as he started to wash his hair. Seeley stopped him, wanting to do it for him.

Fifteen minutes later, the couple was drying off in the bathroom and looking around for their own underwear.

"Do you _have_ to wear boxers?" groaned Zack as he watched Seeley pull on a pair of plaid shorts. "They're just so… not sexy."

"I could always wear my jockstrap," joked Seeley. When Zack raised his eyebrow, the FBI agent shed the boxers and went to his underwear drawer, pulling out a well-used black jock. Zack walked over and took it. He had his boyfriend step into it and then he pulled it up, allowing his hand to gently brush Seeley's cock as it went past.

They kissed, lingering in the moment of sensuality. Then they began to dress hurriedly to avoid being late for work.

"What do you think everyone else will say?" Zack asked as they got into Seeley's vehicle. "I mean, I'm sure Hodgins told Angela, who will have told Dr. Brennan. Everyone's going to know we spent the night together."

"It's not like it's the first time, Zack," said Seeley. "Just drop it, okay? It's fine. We are now committed to each other; we won't be ashamed."

Zack still found it odd that Seeley would have gone from casual fuck buddy to monogamous boyfriend overnight. There was something going on, but he wasn't quite sure of what is was just yet.

Pulling into the parking lot, both of the men jumped out and walked together towards the lab. As if to prove his point, Seeley took hold of Zack's hand and held it all the way to their destination. Then the day's work began.


	6. Thoughts Six

_Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. Been extremely busy with numerous other activities, but here's a lump of extra chapters._

Chapter Six

"When are we going to go to Baltimore, Booth?" asked Brennan almost as soon as he and Zack had walked through the door. She did a double take when she saw the two men entering together, but soon recovered.

"I have to check with some people first," Booth said, giving a noncommittal answer. "Then we'll see where the day takes us."

Nodding to her former grad student to follow her, Brennan began going over what had been established during his absence the previous afternoon.

The duo entered the lab prepared to do a series of test on the skeleton. Contrary to her nature, Brennan was dying to ask Zack about his night. If nothing else, she wanted to know whether or not Booth had committed to him.

Fortunately for her, Angela walked in after a few moments.

"Hey, Zack," she said, leaning against the table and grinning at her young friend. "And how was your night? Did you have a steamy encounter with a hot, sexy stud that works for a certain government agency?"

"That's private," said Zack defensively. He didn't want to be one of those guys who went around gossipping. Both Brennan and Angela raised their eyebrows with interest.

Shocking both of her coworkers, Brennan suddenly said, "Come on, Zack; tell us what happened." She leaned forward eagerly.

Zack rolled his eyes but finally complied with the girls' wishes. "Well, Seeley took me home, though I was asleep for most of the ride. Then we talked for a while."

Neither of the women missed the significance of Zack calling Booth "Seeley."

"What did you talk about?" questioned Angela. "Did he say anything… special?"

"Just that he finally wants a relationship," Zack finally admitted. "That was pretty much it."

That was when Booth entered the lab. As he flipped his cell phone shut, he nodded to Brennan.

"Come on, Bones," he said. "We're heading out to Baltimore."

0-0-0-0-0

"I cannot believe you!" exclaimed Brennan as she and Booth drove away from the Jeffersonian.

"What'd I do now?" Booth asked irritably. "Did I follow incorrect procedure on something?"

Brennan began laughing hysterically. "Are you joking? I'm sorry if I'm blunt-"

"No you're not," interrupted Booth.

"- but come on, you're sleeping with my former grad student. How can I adjust to that automatically? Two days ago, you were the epitome of heterosexuality and now… you're so sexually ambiguous?"

Booth was silent for a moment. Then he answered. "No, Bones. I'm not sexually ambiguous. I love Zack. Yes, I've had sex with plenty of men and women, but he's different. His innocence is so… refreshing. And if you haven't noticed, I'm committing to him."

"That's what he says," muttered Brennan.

"He _told_ you?" Booth exclaimed angrily.

"Relax, Booth," Brennan said in a calming tone, "He didn't go around gossiping. Angela and I coaxed a tiny bit of information out of him."

It was enough to sooth his anger. "I guess it can't be helped if the two of you were after him. You're intimidating, you know,' he said jokingly.

"I know," she said irritably, as if the statement was too obvious to warrant actual verbalization.

0-0-0-0-0

An hour and a half later, the vehicle pulled into the junk yard of a large industrial plant. Old cars were piled up everywhere, along with giant heaps of scrap metal.

"Uh, Booth? Why are there automobiles? They make this area look more like a junk yard than a place for excess waste."

Her partner took his time before explaining; he was in the middle of taking a sample of the soil. "The plant uses parts of old vehicles in some of their products."

"Odd," Brennan commented.

The duo meandered slowly over the ground, inspecting every inch. As Bones checked inside each of the abandoned cars, Booth made careful scrutiny of the metal and trash heaps.

"Booth!" called out Brennan after half an hour had gone by. "Come over here! I've found something."

"What is it, Bones?" he shouted as he ran in the direction of her voice. Within a few seconds, he came into view of Brennan kneeling down on her knees, bent over a portion of the ground.

"A femur," Brennan replied curtly. She paused before continuing. "And a pelvic bone. And now three ribs." Within a space of minutes, the number of bones racked up. After twenty minutes of careful sifting and inspection, Brennan had assembled almost a full skeleton.

"What's missing?" Booth asked, carefully taking note of everything he saw.

Brennan thought for a moment. "Five vertebrae, two ribs, several metatarsals, and oddly enough, a tibia."

"Part of a leg is missing?" Booth said incredulously.

"Yes," Brennan confirmed. "Why would I lie?" she asked rhetorically. "This can't be a coincidence. All of the missing bones are from the left side. Except, obviously, the vertebrae."

"Are you sure some dog didn't come dig 'em up?" half-joked Booth. Brennan's irritated glare silenced him.

Fortunately, Brennan wasn't one to insult without explanation. "Animals wouldn't have taken small bones such as this and then a large bone like the tibia. It's just not logical. I need to get these back to the lab for some tests, but I believe that the bones were never buried here."

"Preliminary theories?" Booth questioned, receiving no answer. "You know, Bones, I really think it's irritating when you get all silent and uppity. Maybe you should try to be more open and explanatory."

"I don't think so,' said Booth as she walked back to Booth's vehicle to grab a body bag and her tool kit.


	7. Thoughts Seven

Chapter Seven

Several hours later, Brennan, Booth, and all of the bones that had been recovered were back at the Jeffersonian. All of the squints were working on either identifying the remains or searching for the cause of death.

"Who wants to bet that the bodies are connected?" Hodgins asked as he analyzed some of the dirt that had been collected from the scene. Considering that the dirt from the first skeleton had led to the current body, the entomologist was processing the newest soil specimens extremely carefully.

Before anyone else could "bet," Brennan walked in. Even without hearing what the conversation had been, she still seemed to know what the scientists were talking about.

"I hope the three of you remember what happened the last time that Dr. Saroyan caught the three of you betting on a case," she warned as she indicated to Zack to join her.

Her former grad student quickly fell in line. "Have you found anything in particular?" he asked. "Other than the missing bone pieces you mentioned in your preliminary report."

"Yes," answered Brennan. They approached the body, the light shining down on the table to illuminate its contents.

The forensic anthropologist indicated the area of the missing tibia. "This skeleton is approximately two to three months old, and has to have been buried for at least one of those months, meaning…"

"…meaning that the tibia had to have been purposely removed. It couldn't have naturally detached itself without evidence of tear," Zack finished.

"That's correct," Brennan agreed. "The bone must have been surgically removed."

"Which means…" Zack started to say.

"No," said Brennan. "Don't try to psychoanalyze the situation. Leave that to Booth and the FBI."

0-0-0-0-0

"Is this the report?" asked Booth, gesturing towards the folder that Brennan was holding. The scientist looked startled at the sight of her partner; she had been busy rereading a segment of her autopsy.

"Here," said Brennan, handing the folder to him, "Everything should be in there."

She paused as Zack came out of the laboratory. Quickly, she said, "I'll be in my office if you need anything." With that, she left.

"What's with Dr. Brennan's behavior?" asked Zack as he watched his coworker hurry towards her office. "She seems a bit… perturbed."

" 'Perturbed' isn't quite the work for it, Zack," Booth said with a laugh. "Bones is still trying to get a grip on the whole you-me thing. You now how she thought of me."

"I always suspected Dr. Brennan of admiring you… in a sexual manner," said Zack in a low voice. "Are you sure that that's not the situation?"

His boyfriend gave a funny look. "What're you talking about? There's no way that Bones thinks of me like that. Now or ever."

"And Dr. Saroyan?" Zack probed further. "Does _she_ think of you as a hot… hunky…" he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly enchanted by the intensity of Booth's sexiness.

The halt of Zack's sentence obviously pleased Booth. "Cat got your tongue, stud?" he joked, running his hand over Zack's head before moving down to his ass.

"What cat?" Zack returned, leaning up to kiss him. Of course, he was too short, so Booth had to lean down to complete the gesture of affection. They pulled apart and Zack smiled. "_You've_ got my tongue."

0-0-0-0-0

Lounging around Angela's office had its perks. Hodgins, Zack, and the office's actual resident were taking time off from the case before either Brennan or Camille came back to start barking out commands. With as much work as the squints had put into the case, they deserved a break.

"What's on TV tonight?" Hodgins asked. Angela was on the computer, surfing around on different sites.

"Let's see," said Angela as she continued typing. "Um… Gilmore Girls, House M.D., Law and Order SVU."

"Anything else?" continued Hodgins. "I'm in the mood for something comedic."

"What do you think Gilmore Girls is?" Angela asked incredulously. "A prison drama?"

"Maybe Booth will want to see something tonight," said Zack, returning to one of his magazines.

"So you're going back to Booth's tonight, then?" Hodgins asked.

"Maybe. If he'll watch TV with me. And if he promises to. Otherwise he'll try to engage in other activities." Angela and Hodgins glanced at each with amusement. "Like watching CSI or listening to that rock music he likes," finished Zack, noticing his friends' reactions. "Stop thinking perverted thoughts," he muttered touchily.

0-0-0-0-0

"Okay, Bones, let's go pay a visit to the Browder estate," announced Booth. "We finally managed to get a search warrant for the entire estate."

"And why wouldn't we already be able to search the entire area?" Brennan asked.

"Uh, because the estate wasn't under scrutiny," Booth explained matter-of-factly. "The Browders avoided the suspicion of the police until one of the crime scene investigators found an almost clean article of clothing nearby.

The explanation clearly had Brennan stumped. "And how exactly does immaculate cloth arise suspicion?" she asked with thinly veiled sarcasm.

"Because the clothing was made of an expensive material that can be bought only in Italy. Now, even though you'd be crazy to try to take someone to court with that kind of circumstantial evidence, it's enough for a search warrant."

"I suppose we should thank your investigators then," said Brennan.

"Already have," Booth grinned.

0-0-0-0-0

"Don't you ever get tired of driving with me to crime scenes and investigations?" Brennan asked as she and Booth got out of the Denali.

"You have no idea." The duo had broken into several fights during the hour and a half drive to the Browder Estate, most of which pertained to the music that was being played in the car.

Now they were walking up to the front door of a rather impressive manor. Hedges lined the walkway in a rather stereotypical manner just as a fountain on either side created the full image of an overtly wealthy family estate.

"Ten bucks says that the ring'll be that grandfather clock chime," Booth joked as he rang the doorbell. When his prediction proved correct, he laughed quietly, but gleefully.

The door opened to reveal a fairly austere looking butler. "Are you Mr. Booth and Ms. Brennan?" he asked, his formal manner unwavering.

"Yes, we are," Brennan replied. "May we come in?"

The butler motioned for them to follow him. The group entered a large foyer and continued through it until they entered a room at the side. Inside were two men and a strikingly attractive woman.


	8. Thoughts Eight

Chapter Eight

The woman was the first to stand due to the fact that she was the only one facing the doorway. Her long black hair hung loose around her face, giving her the appearance of being sweet and naïve. According to Booth, she was anything but.

"Claudia Browder," she said in salutation. Once the others stood, she introduced them as well. "My brother, Samuel, and our cousin, Robert."

Each of them couldn't have been older than thirty five. One would have thought that when a murder investigation was involved, more experienced and diplomatic members of the family would be involved.

"Agent Booth," offered the man, putting out his hand. "And this is my partner, Dr. Brennan."

"I believe that we've met before, Agent Booth," Claudia questioned with a surprisingly false-looking smile.

"You're right," Booth answered with an equally forced smile, though it remained polite nevertheless. "I believe it was two years ago. One of your uncle's had turned up dead in the Potomac River, correct?"

"Your memory remains impeccable," the woman returned snappily. The conversation obviously wasn't going the way she had planned. "However, my family and I would be delighted to assist you and your partner in any way possible."

"Thank you," Booth replied sweetly.

The brother, Samuel, stepped forward as he asked a question. "I don't mean to be rude, but how exactly does a forensic anthropologist contribute to an FBI investigation? You _are_ a forensic anthropologist, no?" He looked pointedly at Brennan.

The scientist took no time in explaining the relevance of her presence. "Mr. Browder, I know that you're aware that a body was found on your estate."

The three Browders glanced at each with looks that suggested that they were thinking Brennan was truly an idiot.

Until Brennan continued. "Just in case any more skeletons turn up, I'm here to begin inspection right away." Her statement wiped away the looks of superiority from the Browders' faces.

"Now if you'll excuse us," said Booth, "We'll pleased to begin the investigation. Dr. Brennan and I will be outside if you have any more questions. And though I'm sure you know this by now, please stay out of the way of the other agents."

0-0-0-0-0

"You two must really hate each other," Brennan observed as they strolled the grounds outside. "I haven't felt so much hostility in a room since… since, well I guess Howard Epps, but that doesn't really compare to this situation, now does it?"

"Serial killer… possible serial killer? Yeah, I'd say that there's definitely a connection there," disagreed Booth.

"I thought that the Browders were considered innocent in the case of the dead uncle," said Brennan, a bit confused by Booth's statement.

Booth shook his head. "We didn't prove that they're innocent, we just couldn't prove that they did it. No evidence was ever found that pointed to another killer, either."

"So the case was never closed?"

"No, it wasn't," Booth answered. "But I've never stopped believing that the Browders arranged that murder. Especially that bitch Claudia."

"Like I said, hostility."

0-0-0-0-0

As Brennan and Booth headed the investigation of the Browder estate, the rest of the squint team was busy trying to find another link between the murdered bodies.

"Anything new on the dumpsite remains?" Zack asked, coming up behind Hodgins as he worked with a microscope.

Waiting to finish before answering, Hodgins then said, "Possibly. Give me a bit more time with this experiment."

Returning to the lab disappointed, Zack took a fresh start at examining and comparing the skeletons. Other than the Baltimore connection, the bodies weren't very similar.

"Did we ever get a COD on body number two?" asked Angela as she walked into the lab. She had been busy with the facial reconstruction of the second victim but running a certain program took a while, giving her time check on her colleagues.

"It seems that the victim's neck was broken," Zack said incredulously. "That's odd… I would have expected something more… torturous. Even though we couldn't ascertain the cause of death of the first body, the wounds showed obvious signs of torment."

"What if victim two was a partner, or even an innocent bystander?" Angela questioned. "If victim one was murdered in the same place that victim two was buried, then doesn't imply that the second person was murdered there also?"

"That'd be logical," agreed Zack, "Though we can't be sure without some sort of evidence."

"I'll finish up with the facial reconstruction and then we'll see where we get," said Angela, getting up to leave.

0-0-0-0-0

"Nothing?" asked Booth in disbelief. "You found nothing? And you searched everything? The house, the backyard, the rest of the estate?"

The CSI shook his head disappointedly. "I'm sorry, Agent Booth, but there isn't a shred of evidence that would suggest foul play. You're going to have to look elsewhere."

Storming off, Booth was followed by a curious Brennan.

"Taking this a little personal, aren't you?" she asked, having to walk extremely fast just to keep up with her partner.

"How else am I supposed to take it?" Booth asked angrily. "I _know_ that these people are murderers. There is _no other explanation_!"

"Actually, there could possibly be a disgruntled employee or a family friend committing these crimes," offered Brennan. "In fact, that really does seem more likely than this Claudia Browder. Being a bitch doesn't make one a murderer."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Booth retorted. "Are you ready to leave?" he asked as they reached his vehicle.

"I suppose," Brennan answered, getting into the passenger's seat. "Are you going to be an asshole the entire drive back to the Jeffersonian?"

"Probably," Booth muttered as he drove off.

0-0-0-0-0

Hanging up the phone, Angela walked into the lab to see Hodgins and Zack.

"Facial reconstruction news, right now!" she announced, popping just her head in the doorway and then moving on. She was followed by her friends.

"When are Booth and Brennan getting back?" Hodgins asked. "I think I'm close to a break through with this experiment."

"In about forty five minutes," Angela answered, "They just called me. Anyways, this is what I've come up with."

A woman's face came up. She had medium length blonde hair but was rather unattractive. Her nose was slightly larger than normal, her eyes were a little close together, and her mouth seemed a little crooked."

"I'd say that she definitely figures into the murdered accomplice theory," Zack said.

"And I think that you're probably right," said Angela. "I ran her through numerous databases and came up with an arrest. Name's Miranda Trent. Eleven years ago, she assaulted a sixteen year old teenager, beating him severely."

"So you think this Miranda helped murder Cameron Brockman and then was murdered by an unknown partner?"

"Looks like it," Angela answered, "I suppose that we should wait for Brennan and Booth to come back and see what they think."

"Or you could, perhaps, tell your boss what's going on?" said Camille, coming into the room.

"Dr. Saroyan…" started Angela, "I'm really sorry. I forgot that you were here."

"I've been working here for several months now, Angela. You should have adjusted to that by now," Camille said, obviously perturbed.

"No, no," Angela quickly said, trying to recover, "That would be ridiculous. I just forgot that you were in today. I hadn't seen you this morning, so I thought you weren't here."

"Next time, you should check in my office, okay?" Camille chastised. "In any case, why don't you review for me what you've found out?"


	9. Thoughts Nine

Chapter Nine

"That trip was a total waste of time," Booth complained as he and Zack were driving back to his place. "We investigated the whole estate and nothing came up."

"Maybe Brennan's right," Zack said cautiously.

"Whether she's right or wrong, I don't want to admit to it," Booth argued childishly. "I just know that this family has a murderer in it. And I need to prove it."

They were silent for a while; neither knew what to say at that time.

"Let's just not talk about the case for tonight, okay?" Zack said. "It's stressful for both of us, especially for you. We can just watch TV or talk or do something else."

"Sure," Booth consented.

A little while later, the couple walked into Seeley's place. "Do you want to order some food?" asked Zack after looking in the refrigerator. Barely anything was edible.

Flopping down on the couch, Seeley called out, "How about some Chinese? I'm starving."

The younger man picked up the telephone and called one of the local takeout places. The man on the other end of the line assured him that they would receive their food in forty-five minutes.

In the meantime, Zack went over to the couch and laid down, resting his head on Seeley's chest. He turned on the television and started to relax.

He was kind of annoyed when Seeley picked him up and placed him on the other side. "What are you doing?" he asked, "Tired of me already?"

Or so Zack thought until Seeley unbuttoned his pants and ripped them off of him. "Okay, guess your not _that_ tired of me."

"You'll think tired of you," Seeley said with a grin, lowering his head. Slowly, he inched down Zack's underwear, loving the man's expression as he took him into his mouth. No matter his usual stance on relationships, Seeley knew how to give great head.

"Where… did… you… fucking learn how… to do this?" Zack moaned out as Seeley's head moved up and down.

Not able to respond, Seeley just continued pleasing his boyfriend. Deep in the moment, Zack ran his fingers through Seeley's hair, enjoying every minute.

"Seeley… I'm, I'm…" Zack started to say, his hips bucking as he approached climax. Disregarding his boyfriend's motions, Seeley continued to perform oral sex on him long after the bucking subsided and Zack was lying back on the couch, his eyes closed in satisfaction.

"How'd you like that?" Seeley asked, rubbing his hand against Zack's stomach and wrapping his arm around the other man.

"That was… amazing," Zack said with a boyish grin.

Nodding his head, Seeley agreed. "I know."

0-0-0-0-0

"Sweet rebellion," Booth muttered as he fixed his tie for work. As usual, his choice of tie was irregular, the strips being cobalt blue and burnt orange. Provocative, maybe… eye-catching, definitely.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked Zack when he walked back into the kitchen. The scientist was sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading a magazine.

"Since seven," returned Zack, looking up from his reading. "Just reading this article in TIME. It discusses…"

He was interrupted by Booth. "How long 'til you're ready?" the agent inquired, pouring his own coffee. "We should be getting in early. Possible breaks on the case, you know."

"Yeah," Zack complied. "You're right." This behavior was the Booth he was used to; in fact, it was rather refreshing. The calm, sensitive Booth had really started to bother him. "Let me finish my coffee and article. Then I'll urinate, put on my pants, and be out the door."

"Great," said Booth indifferently. "Just yell at me when you're finished."

Seven minutes, forty-three seconds later, Zack came back into the kitchen. He was dressed in a respectable suit, with flawless hair and a briefcase in the one hand. "All set?" he asked, indicating towards the door.

"Um…" said Booth, flustered. "You see, I kinda thought that you'd take longer."

Zack gave a small laugh. "Why?" he asked, with that unintentional air of condescension that he sometimes gave off. "I don't require a lot of time to dress myself appropriately."

"Thought you might," Booth muttered. "Anyways, I was gonna finish my coffee and then put on my shoes." He eagerly changed the subject. "So, what's with the briefcase?"

"I brought home my notes and a few lab reports," answered Zack. "Not that I got a chance to look at them." The scientist went over to his boyfriend and bent in close to his ear. "Thanks to you."

"Well, I try," Booth joked, giving Zack a quick kiss before downing the rest of his coffee. "Let's go!" he said, heading towards the door.

0-0-0-0-0

"Thanks for coming in on time," said Camille with just a hint of sarcasm. She was still agitated about yesterday's report. Rather, the lack of a report. When she had questioned the squints, they hadn't been able to satisfy her requirements for information. Today, they might.

Both Hodgins and Angela could see her level of discomfort rise at the sight of Booth and Zack coming towards them. Even with the few days she'd had to process the men's relationship, seeing the two of them together was still a little awkward.

"You're welcome, Dr. Saroyan," returned Booth, the same amount of sarcasm laced in his voice also. "Glad to be of service."

"You'll be of service when you and Brennan can pair up with these three and get me some answers," insisted Camille, looking expectantly at everyone around her. "Where is Dr. Brennan, anyways?"

"Right here," shouted Brennan as she came walking, very rapidly, towards the group. A half spilt cup of Starbucks coffee was held in her right hand while the other struggled with a file folder. Papers seemed to be coming out of it from all directions, causing the anthropologist no end of grief.

"Whatcha got there, Bones?" asked Booth amusedly as he watched his partner come closer.

"Shut up Booth," the woman said irritably, slamming the file down on the table. "I think that we have a theory about these murders now," she announced to Camille.

The boss raised her eyebrows in quiet anticipation. "Well, what is this theory?" she asked, the curiosity obvious in her voice.

"We have two bodies, Cameron Brockman and Miranda Trent. There has to be some connection between the two of them. Evidence links them to the same Baltimore waste site. The two also have to be connected with the Browder family."

"The search at the manor turned up nothing. Why can't the fact that Brockman was found on the Browder estate be a coincidence?" questioned Camille, pushing the lead scientist to explain further.

"That's _possible_," admitted Brennan, "But highly doubtful. Additionally, I think that the Browders could possibly be linked through drug business or black market deals."

"Nice theory," mused Booth, "But who's the missing link between Brockman and Trent? Whether or not the chick killed the dude, somebody had to kill the chick. We have another guy out there somewhere."

"My money's on this Claudia," noted Hodgins as he flipped through some of Brennan's notes from the previous day. "Seems like a real bitch. Real drug-lord material."

"Thank you!" exclaimed Booth, eager to have somebody agree with him besides Brennan. "At least _Hodgins_ concurs," he muttered happily.

"We're running out of time," interrupted Camille, ruining the man's reverie. Indicating Booth and Brennan, she continued. "I want the two of you to spend all of your time trying to connect the two murders. _Without_ going back to visit the Browders."

"What about the crime scene?" pushed Booth. "That's still open for inspection, right?"

"I suppose," consented Camille suspiciously. "But don't spend all of your time with your rich people conspiracy theory." 

"Conspiracy theory?" asked Angela, one eyebrow raised mockingly. "I thought only Hodgy had those."


	10. Thoughts Ten

Chapter Ten

"What are we doing here?" complained Brennan as she and Booth made their way across the Browder grounds, heading towards the original crime scene. "I thought we were over the whole 'Claudia's' a killer thing."

"But she's the murderer," argued Booth childishly. "You'd have to be blind not to see it."

"Let's drop it for now, okay?" Brennan insisted. "I'm tired of hearing you go on about this." She paused as they continued towards the yellow tape. "We need to consider other possibilities."

The team grew silent upon reaching the crime scene. "What exactly are we looking for?" asked Brennan. "I assume that there's something in particular that you're wanting to find."

"Not really," shrugged Booth, "But I'm kinda hoping for some drugs… DNA, of course… or possibly some foreign blood."

Pouring over yet another crime scene, Booth and Brennan were taking advantage of the last two hours of sunlight. Unfortunately for them, the search radius was approximately a half mile. That made for a lot of searching.

Deciding to cover a brush-covered area together, the duo began scanning fervently. The case's lack of evidence was becoming exponentially clearer as their time waned and the sun began sinking lower and lower in the sky.

"Think I've got something over here!" called out Brennan, almost stumbling over a half-rotted log. "There's three large rocks covered in blood!"

"That makes good for more evidence," panted out Booth as he ran to his partner's side. Regardless of their close proximity, he hadn't wasted any time answering her call.

Carefully, Brennan began taking two or three samples from each rock. She wasn't taking the chance of mistaking blood from multiple sources as coming from one.

"Search around this area right here," ordered Brennan, pre-occupied with her discovery. "There could easily be something else."

"On it," complied Booth, not contesting Brennan's superiority complex for once. Peering around the rocks, he began looking under every stone and clump of grass.

A cry of joy brought Brennan out of her trance and brought her to Booth's side. "What did you find?" she asked with interest. One might have thought that she was afraid that the importance of her own discovery might be mitigated.

"It's a brown paper bag," he said, a curiously large amount of pride in his voice.

"So?" the forensic anthropologist asked, obviously unimpressed. "What good can an old paper bag do? It's not exactly incriminating."

The characteristic grin of her partner then arose suspicion in the woman. "What else did you find?" she inquired.

"There're lots of maggots in here," answered Booth, "And they don't look very normal."

"Give me," commanded Brennan, reaching out quickly to grab the bag. Instinctively denying her at first, Booth finally consented.

"These look exactly like the larvae that Hodgins showed us," exclaimed Brennan in surprise. "They have to be the same."

"Why would they look the same?" argued Booth, the reality of the situation sinking in. "I'm not an entomologist, but I think that the insects wouldn't be in the same stage of metamorphosis."

"There're numerous explanations for that," explained Brennan, dismissing Booth's trepidation. "When we get this back to Hodgins, he can tell us more."

"Look," ordered Booth, pointing towards a spot on the inside of the bag. "There's some blood."

"Maybe we'll get lucky," Brennan suggested, holding the bag up to inspect the blood further. "Hopefully this'll be the murderer's blood."

0-0-0-0-0

"I'm heading over to the diner," called out Zack, taking advantage of the break that the squints were receiving. What with Booth and Brennan's absence, the team didn't have a lot to take up time. "Does anybody want to go with me?"

"I'll go!" called out Angela, coming down the stairs with her jacket over her arm. "I could do with some coffee and a piece of pie."

The friends entered their favorite diner a few minutes later and sat down at the bar. After ordering their food and coffee, the two began talking about nothing about a particular part of the case that was stumping them. It was totally natural, as if they were discussing a favorite television show.

Until Zack saw somebody enter the diner that he'd never imagined seeing again. That really cute lawyer from the courthouse.

"Shit!" he whispered, turning to face Angela and covering his face with his hand. At least he no longer had that signature messy, unruly hair to draw attention to himself.

Inconspicuously, Angela slowly turned her head in the direction that Zack was avoiding. She too noticed the attractive man who had walked in.

"Who _is_ that?" Angela hissed at Zack. "He's looking around… might he be looking for you?"

"What makes you think that?" Zack whispered back, still hiding his face.

"The fact that you hid yourself rather desperately as soon as the hunk walked in, I'd say that _that_ makes me think he's looking for you," explained Angela. "Now are you going to tell me what's going on, or what?" She paused. "Did you sleep with him or something?"

"No," answered Zack. "But he hit on me a few days ago at the courthouse, and I don't want to deal with him."

"He just came up and asked you out?" asked Angela with interest. "He didn't even bother to ask if you were gay? It must be awesome to have gaydar like that."

Zack playfully hit her with the newspaper. "Don't draw attention to yourself," he commanded in a low voice. "Or to me, for that matter."

"No problem," she said. Then she got up, giving the lame excuse of "I'm going to the bathroom." Which, of course, attracted the attention of one Mr. Cute Lawyer Dude.

"Zack Addy!" he called out, just noticing the young scientist. Wanting to avoid suspicion, Zack quickly threw down his newspaper. The cat was out of the bag now; there was no turning back. He threw a quick glare at Angela as she sat in the corner.

"Hi… Michael," Zack greeted reluctantly, turning to face the man as he took a drink of coffee. "How are you?"

"Please, drop the formalities," the lawyer asked, flashing a sparkly smile. His teeth were flawlessly white and perfectly straight. How anybody could resist him, Zack didn't know.

"Okay," conceded Zack. Acting out of instinctive politeness, he indicated the seat next to him. Then he looked peripherally at Angela and jerked his head, telling her to come back to the bar.

"Well this looks cozy," the facial reconstructive expert, retaking her seat. "I'm Angela," she said in salutation, holding out her hand.

"Michael Grey," the man answered, offering his own hand.

Clearly wanting to know more about the man and the situation in its entirety, Angela nodded politely and went back to eating her pie and sipping coffee. She was waiting for the two men to start talking.

"You never called," Grey said after a few more seconds of silence. He must have thought that being blunt was better than remaining silent.

"Sorry," returned Zack quietly. "But like I said, I have a boyfriend."

The lawyer grinned sheepishly. "I was sorta hoping that you'd lost the boyfriend, to be perfectly honest. Sometimes those… _relationships_… don't work out. Pesky things, relationships."

"Well… this relationship _is_ working out," Zack answered brusquely, "Guess I'm just lucky."

At a loss for words, Grey distracted himself by ordering a cup of coffee. That bought him a few seconds to think.

"So how serious is your… relationship?" the lawyer pushed further, "I mean, are you two exclusive?"

"Very," Zack answered, now clearly trying to make the man leave. Entranced by the dialogue, Angela looked down at her plate and listened intently.

"Too bad for me, I suppose," sighed Grey, downing the coffee. Gathering his coat and briefcase, he stood up. "Like I said, if you leave your boyfriend sometime soon, give me a call." He threw another card down on the table and left.

"Wow!" whispered Angela, taking another bite of pie. "Who knew that such a hottie was after you? Where'd you even meet him?"

"At the courthouse," Zack answered, seemingly worn out from the five minute conversation. With that much tension in the air, anybody would've been somewhat exhausted. "He practically threw himself at me. Then _and_ now."

"Lucky you," said Angela. "Except for the fact that you're with Booth." She was _definitely_ fishing for information now.

"Hey, don't let the stupid gay stereotype of promiscuity fool you!" warned Zack, clearly onto his friend's thinking process. "It's absolutely impossible that I'd do something like that."

Angela watched through the window as Michael Grey walked down the sidewalk. "Zack, a man with that ass... I don't know if even Booth would blame you if you cheated."


	11. Thoughts Eleven

Sorry for the delay; my computer's been out of control and all of my Word Processors got screwed up. I just now managed to get back to writing. 

Chapter Eleven

"I assume that you found something?" inquired Camille as Brennan and Booth entered the Jeffersonian.

"You bet," Booth answered happily. "We've got some blood samples and some bugs for Hodgins. Let's see how far this evidence can take us."

"I'll take those," said Angela, coming into the lab and holding her hand out for the blood samples. "Hodgins is still inspecting something under a microscope but he'll be here in a few minutes."

"Thanks," returned Booth, handing her the samples and setting off.

Brennan and Camille turned to Angela. "Is Zack here?" the anthropologist asked.

"Yeah," replied Angela, turning around to leave herself, leaving the other women alone.

"So, how are you handling the whole Booth and Zack thing?" Brennan inquired, asking the question that Camille would probably have never asked her. It _was_ an invasive question after all.

"Isn't that a bit personal?" asked the other woman, glaring at her employee. "Even for someone as… direct… as you."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "We're talking about _Booth_," she said irritably, "There's no need for a strict professional tone."

Her boss raised an eyebrow. "At work, there's _always_ a need for professionalism." She started to walk faster, leaving Brennan behind.

The scientist picked up the pace in order to keep up with Camille, eventually overtaking the woman and stopping her in the hallway. "Listen, Cam, I just want to see how you're doing. You and Booth have a history. A sexual history. My concern is as a friend."

Stopping, Cam sighed and closed her eyes. "When I first found out a few days ago, a surprising thing happened. First, images of Booth and myself flashed through my mind. Then I found myself… glad. Oddly, it's a bit relieving that Booth's with a man."

"Really?" asked Brennan with a large degree of surprise. When she had asked Cam how the woman felt about Booth, she had been expecting a torrent of anger and rage, not this… understanding."

"Don't get me wrong, Brennan," Cam started to explain, "I'm still shocked about the whole ordeal. But Booth being with Zack is a bit reassuring because there's no feeling of competition. I'm not comparing myself to Zack, subconsciously or otherwise."

"I suppose you've got a point," conceded Brennan, halting at the entrance to her office. "I'm just glad that you're taking it in stride. I'm not quite so sure I would be if I was in your situation."

0-0-0-0-0

"We've got the results of the tests that I ran on the blood samples," announced Angela, coming into the room where Brennan and Hodgins sat waiting. It had been nearly a quarter of an hour since Hodgins had returned with his report.

"Really?" asked Booth, entering soon after. "Anything special?"

"We have two different sources," Angela explained, the look of satisfaction on Booth's face increasing with her every word. "One is Cameron Brockman, the other is unknown."

"Unknown!" called out Booth. "See?"

"Please, Booth," cautioned Brennan, "Enough with your righteous 'I told you so's.' Besides, this streak of constant excitability is rather annoying."

Her candor was quick to reverse Booth's mood. He became much surlier after his partner's comment.

"Do we have any information regarding the second source of blood?" Booth pushed, even more determined to prove himself right. Without Brennan's criticisms.

"I've run it through several databases," said Angela, a little perplexed at the sudden change in Booth's attitude. "There've been no hits yet."

The rest of the team turned to Hodgins for his lab results on the insects.

"The insects are the same as the ones found in Brockman," he explained, confirming Brennan's original presumption. "However, we still can't determine the exact time of death."

"Why?" demanded Booth.

"The larvae that you found are second generation," Hodgins explained. "Any time of death I could give you wouldn't be any more specific than Brennan's."

"We might not need a time of death," announced Zack as he too entered the room. "I think I may have found the murderer."

0-0-0-0-0

"I remembered what Hodgins said at the beginning of the case," Zack explained as everyone gathered around his computer.

"What was that?" asked Hodgins, obviously confused. He usually said a lot.

"You said that an expert entomologist was our most likely suspect. I had forgotten about that until a few hours ago."

Brennan, Angela, and Hodgins looked at each other guiltily. They should never have forgotten such an important piece of information; somebody should have followed through with researching that angle.

"Now, I know Seeley has a fixation on the Browder family, so I went through those people first. There aren't any prominent or amateur entomologists in the family, but I trusted Booth."

"So what did you find?" pushed Brennan, eager to learn who the suspect was.

"The Browders are surprisingly very popular in their own little social world," Zack explained. "Just like other celebrities, their activities and friendships are closely monitored. With another fifteen minutes of researching, I finally found out that one of Samuel Browder's closest friends is entomologist Gilbert Hermann."

"Wait a minute," halted Booth, processing the information. "Is Samuel Browder the killer? Or is this Gilbert Hermann?"

"We can't be certain," answered Zack, "But it's most likely that the murderer is one of these two."

0-0-0-0-0

"Nice work, Zack," Booth complimented as he and his boyfriend walked down the hallway. "Gotta say, I'm impressed."

Taking the words to heart, Zack gave Booth a rare smile.

"I'll give you a bigger smile than that," said Booth all of a sudden. He stopped Zack in the middle of the hallway and kissed him.

"Thanks, but…" Zack started to say, but he was silenced when Booth kissed him again and dragged him into the custodial closet right beside them.

"What are you doing?" whispered Zack. "We almost got fired for this a few days ago!" He continued to half-heartedly protest as Booth unbuttoned both of their shorts.

"We were caught doing it in an office," Booth reminded him, "but not in a closet. And I know for a fact that Hodgins and Angela sometimes get dirty in places like this."

"Just lock the door," Zack finally consented, returning his boyfriend's kisses and rubbing his hands over Booth's now shirtless torso.

Tearing off his own and Zack's pants, Booth grabbed a condom and a bottle of lube from his pants pocket. Preparing himself, the agent never let his lips leave his lover's. Zack emitted a gasp as Booth entered him.

Propped up against a set of shelves, Zack and Booth were facing each other during their encounter. Booth was grunting in exertion as his body moved in rhythm to Zack's motions. Enjoying himself, Zack began teasing Booth's lips and neck with his tongue, causing the man to laugh in euphoria.

"Faster," Zack whispered in Booth's ear. Eager to please, Booth increased the speed of his thrusts.

Sweat poured off of the men as they made love. The very act of sex in such a forbidden place increased the sensuality of the entire experience. Regardless of having already performed in the Jeffersonian, this time things were different, more intimate. Then again, a janitor's closet is never the most romantic place to fuck.

A louder moan came from Booth as he finally came. Zack's own noises indicated that he'd reach orgasm also.

"Like I said," panted Booth, "I'm impressed."


	12. Thoughts Twelve

Chapter Twelve

"Where have the two of you been?" demanded Brennan as Booth and Zack entered the room. "We've been waiting for a quarter of an hour."

"Sorry," Booth apologized, fixing his tie. "I got held up by a phone call. Zack stayed with me."

"I'm sure Zack _was_ there," whispered Angela to Hodgins. "Notice how Zack's shirt isn't tucked in all the way? And Booth's belt buckle isn't buckled?"

"Shhh" returned Hodgins, "We don't want to get them in trouble with Cam."

"We need to go check out this Hermann entomologist guy," stated Booth obviously.

"Yeah," Brennan answered irritably. "That's what you're late for."

"Oh. In any case, I suppose that I should go ahead and get a search warrant for Hermann. Don't want to get there and find out that we can't even do anything."

Brennan nodded in agreement and turned to her team. "Is there anything else that you guys can do?" she asked.

"I don't think so," answered Angela, "But we'll keep going over things and make sure that we've covered all the bases."

"Good. As soon as Booth comes through with the warrant, we'll be heading out."

The squints turned around and left, eager to get away from the obvious tension between Brennan and the soon to be returning Booth.

0-0-0-0-0

"Do you think Brennan is still irritable about the whole Booth-Zack thing?" Angela wondered aloud as she and Hodgins sat in her office, rechecking things on the computer. "I mean, I know it's only been a few days, but she's seemed like she's okay."

"Brennan's not really the type to let something bother her for too long," Hodgins answered, peering at the picture of a fungus. "Is she?"

"She definitely has the ability to let things fester," his girlfriend returned. "I've seen it before. But this… this I'm not so sure about."

Hodgins continued to inspect the fungus before giving another opinion. "I'm pretty sure that Brennan was just pissed because she could tell Booth and Zack had just done it instead of working."

Laughing for a moment, Angela became more somber. "Yeah, that was kind of risky. They were just caught a few days ago in here."

The couple turned to look at the plastic covered couch. "I keep forgetting to get that cleaned," Angela said before turning back to the computer. "No telling how much sweat, body oils, and lube got into that thing. I mean, _we've_ never even had sex on that couch."

"Let it go," said Hodgins. He then diverted her attention with a kiss after an idea came to him.

"Why don't we take advantage of the plastic covering?"

0-0-0-0-0

"What's your problem?" asked Booth after twenty minutes of complete silence in the car. "Are you mad about something in particular?"

"No!" answered Brennan quickly and defensively. So not her style. She then relented and said angrily, "Yes!"

"Well, what about?" Booth pushed, "Cause I'd really appreciate knowing what I've done to make you so bitter."

"_Bitter_?" exclaimed Brennan, "I am _not_ bitter. Unless, of course, you consider knowing that your partner and his lover were having sex at a very crucial point in a murder investigation!" 

"So we decided to take a ten or fifteen minute break," Booth defended himself. "What's the big deal? It's not like you and the other squints had nothing else to do. Are you mad about us screwing on the clock or about us screwing at all?"

"Don't be stupid!" argued Brennan, "I've already told you that I'm perfectly comfortable with your relationship. Surprisingly, Cam is too. So everybody's on _your_ freaking side. Get over the whole self-righteous 'Everybody's against me because I'm in a homosexual relationship' thing."

"That was kinda harsh," said Booth after another minute's silence. "But good. I think you really let out some emotion."

"Yeah, me too," agreed Brennan. The two then went on in a more comfortable, tensionless silence.

0-0-0-0-0

A little while later, Booth parked the car in front of a comfortable, older-looking house. The grass was nicely cut with a large oak tree out in front to compliment the neatly whitewashed sides. In fact, the whole property seemed a bit too homey and perfect.

The duo walked up the pathway to the door and rang the bell. "This whole place makes me a bit… uncomfortable," commented Brennan as they waited for an answer.

"I know exactly what you mean," agreed Booth.

It took nearly six minutes for somebody to open the door. A sixty-something year old man stood in the doorway, a pair of spectacles accessorizing his face. He was dressed in a pair of khakis and a roughly knit grey sweater.

"How may I help you?" he asked timidly.

"We're looking for a Dr. Hermann," answered Booth firmly. "Would that be you?"

"Yes, that's me," the man replied.

"Good," said Brennan, "You're the one who needs to see this." She handed him the search warrant as she and Booth opened the screen door and let themselves in.

"Wait a minute!" protested Dr. Hermann. He hadn't read the warrant. "You can't come in here like this!"

"Read the piece of paper my partner just gave you," ordered Booth as he began peering around the place. "You'll see that we _can_ come in here like this."

The duo searched the entire place as the stunned entomologist stood at the doorway right outside. Unfortunately, nothing out of the ordinary seemed to turn up.

"I hear that you're good friends with Samuel Browder," said Booth as he came out to talk to Dr. Hermann.

"What, Sam?" asked the man, "What does he have to do with any of this? 

"We can't tell you that," replied Booth.

"I'm not _friends_ with Sam. I'm a little too old for that," answered the elderly man, "but I've known him since he was in kindergarten. He and my son have been best friends since they were five."

"Brennan!" yelled Booth, startling the man, "Come out here!"

"What?" she asked, wondering if something had happened.

"When's the last time you saw your son, Dr. Hermann?" asked Booth.

"A few weeks ago," the man answered. "He's been asking about a project I've been doing for a class I teach." 

"That project wouldn't happen to involve flesh-eating insects, would it?" asked Brennan, the puzzle pieces falling into place.

"Yes," answered Dr. Hermann, "But I've never actually bought any insects. They're not legal in the United States."

"Do you know where to get them?" asked Booth.

"Yes," said the entomologist, "There's a website online where you can illegally purchase the larvae. But I would never…"

"You're going to have to come with us," interrupted Booth. He led the man over to his car but didn't handcuff him.

"What are you doing?" asked Brennan worriedly.

"I'm keeping the good doctor here from alerting his son," Booth explained. "I think we now know for sure who the killers are."


	13. Thoughts Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Booth paced in front of the prisoner, watching the look on the man's face and taking careful note of every change in expression. He was so close to catching the bastard who had murdered their victims. This meddling daddy-figure wouldn't stand in his way.

"You have to tell us where you son is, Dr. Hermann," Booth finally stated, placing both hands on the table and glaring at the entomologist menacingly. "You know that it's the right thing to do."

"I don't know where Beau is… is at!" Hermann protested frantically. "Even if I did, you can't… can't honestly suspect him… _him_… of murder! He's perfectly normal."

"Funny thing, that word 'normal,' you know?" continued Booth. "Because what's 'normal' is totally relative. Some people think that incest or child molestation is normal. Do you? I don't think so. But you get my point."

Outside of the interrogation room, Brennan watched wearily, ready for any clue that the elderly man might give. After half an hour of watching her partner ask questions, she was getting tired.

"Hey, Temperance," came Angela's voice from behind her. The anthropologist turned around to face her friend.

Handing Brennan a cup of coffee, Angela regarded the interrogation situation for a moment. "Booth doesn't actually think…" she started to say.

"No," Brennan answered, cutting the woman off before she even finished the question. "But we think that his son might be the murderer."

"Ah…"

They continued to watch for a few more seconds, the silence between them oddly comforting. The effort they had exerted on this case was quickly catching up in the wake of the preceding events.

"What have you, Hodgins, and Zack come up with?" asked Brennan, focusing once again the job.

"Nothing," Angela replied gravely. "There just isn't anything more to do. Hodgins is going over his analyses once more, just in case, and Zack is doing his fourth examination of the victims' bones."

"At least you're trying…" Brennan said, the end of her sentence drifting off. The conversation going on between captive and interrogator had just begun to get interesting again.

"Are you sure?" pressed Booth, leaning up closer to Hermann.

"Sort of," the scared man answered meekly. "Beau's been talking about this small warehouse that he and his buddies bought… he said that they were going to be opening a comic book shop in a few months. He only brought it up because he had to ask me for rent money."

"Do you know the address?" Booth asked, trying to back off a little now that the man was cooperating.

"I think… I think that it was 2591 Fairview Rd, but I'm not positive."

As soon as Brennan heard the man's response, she turned to Angela. "Go," she said, "Find out everything you can about that address."

0-0-0-0-0

By the time Booth had exited the interrogation room, grabbed Brennan, and got back to Angela's office, the information had already been compiled. Angela went over it to save the duo a bit of time.

"It's a small warehouse, only about 3,000 sq. ft," she started off. "It was recently bought by, big surprise, Samuel Browder."

"Starting to narrow down our suspect list, huh?" commented Booth.

"Shall we go?" asked Brennan, starting to put on her coat.

"Sure," Booth replied, "But grab your gun. I'll be right there."

Leaving Brennan alone with Angela, Booth left the office and went to find Zack. Though he always felt some degree of invulnerability, Booth knew that there was a chance, no matter small, that his life could end on a case such as this.

Finding his boyfriend in one of the labs, Booth smiled. Zack apparently hadn't heard the agent's footsteps, but Booth's presence seemed enough to arouse the man from his concentration.

"Hey, you," Booth said as he stood in the doorway.

Zack wiped off his tool, placed in on the table, and walked over to his lover. "What're you doing here?" he asked matter-of-factly. "I thought you were off on tracking down the murderer."

"I'm about to go after him… or hims," Booth answered, taking hold of Zack's hand. Such displays of non-sexual intimacy were rather odd for Booth, but Zack allowed it, interested to know what else Booth wanted to say.

"Oh," said Zack. "Dangerous job?"

"Always. I wanted to see you before I left."

A small grin shone at the corners of Zack's mouth. Booth's statement was sincere and rather meaningful.

"Well, I'll give you a good luck kiss and send you on your way," Zack returned, following through. The kiss they shared wasn't slow or passionate. It was intimate, yes, but nothing… final. There was no sense of impending danger or fatality. It was two people expressing that they recognized the severity of a situation and were prepared for the worst, should it come.

Booth tore his mouth away hesitantly and smiled peacefully at the other man. "I'll see you when I get back."

Turning away, Zack returned to his operating table. "Count on it."

0-0-0-0-0

"This car driving thing is starting to get really old," complained Booth as he and Brennan traveled to their suspected murderer's hideout. "I mean, we've driven to, what, three or four places now? It's starting to be old hat."

"Is there anything we should go over before we get there?" asked Brennan, choosing to ignore her friend's complaints. Sometimes people had to let things out. Most people anyways.

Nodding his head, Booth turned a curve and then answered. "Stay behind me, have a loaded piece in your hand, and keep your guard up."

"I know how to handle myself in this situation, Booth. "I've done it plenty of times before."

"Just do it, okay?" Booth insisted.

"Fine," returned Brennan, "But your warnings are unnecessary. The gun thing is totally under control."

Twenty minutes later, the vehicle pulled onto an industrial street full of small, grey warehouses. It took another ten minutes to reach 2591.

"Doesn't look like much, does it?" asked Brennan, stepping out of the car, her gun in her hand.

"Exactly the kind of place for hoarding a nest of flesh-eating bugs while planning murders and drug deals," answered Booth. "Inconspicuous and roomy."

They slowly approached the door, hearing sounds coming from inside. Once at the door, Booth waited, hearing silence, and then decided to go in.

He kicked down the door and stormed in, gun held high and pointed.


	14. Thoughts Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Storming in, Booth held his gun at eye level, perfectly prepared to shoot at anything that was a threat to either him or Brennan. His partner, right behind him, did likewise.

The only sign that humans had just been in the warehouse was the sight of a closing door on the opposing wall. Running towards the opening, Booth exited the steely structure, continuing the pursuit of their criminals.

"Oh my…" trailed off Brennan as she took in the surrounding area. With his adrenaline pumping and his concentration on capturing the men, Booth had failed to notice the contents of the warehouse.

Along one side were stacks of packaged goods, obviously narcotics of some kind. A putrid odor made its way towards her; vapor could be seen coming from large, slimy vats in another nearby corner.

Finding drugs wasn't surprising; drugs had been expected. What Brennan hadn't been truly prepared for was the sight of a glass terrarium that stretched nearly six feet high by eight feet long. Inside, partitions separated insects of all different growth levels. Eggs in one section, larvae in another, and adults in a third. Of course, these insects were the same species that had been identified at the crime scene. These were insects that did not mind eating a human alive.

Chasing after her partner, Brennan ran through the door to see Booth running swiftly down an alley. A black-suited man was running with a plainly dressed one, both far up ahead. As Brennan caught up with Booth, who had been weaving about strategically, she managed to tell him what she had noticed in the warehouse.

"Shit," was all that Booth could say before bringing his concentration back to the task at hand. As he continued the chase, he yelled back at Brennan, "Use my radio and call for backup!"

Doing as she was told, Brennan returned to the vehicle. Requesting assistance, the forensic anthropologist was assured that help would be arriving within ten minutes. She got back out of the car, ready to return to Booth's side.

She never heard the sounds of footsteps behind her until it was too late. A body crashed into her, knocking the woman nearly unconscious. She lied on the ground, watching the figure of a suited man running away.

It took the last of her strength to raise her gun, aim, and pull the trigger. Only when she saw the now shadowy figure collapse did she give in, allowing the blackness to take over.

0-0-0-0-0

"Bones?" called out Booth. "Can you hear me?" The FBI agent stood over his partner's body, trying to wake her. Upon discovering her body, the man had panicked, but the feel of a strong pulse had been enough to quell his fears.

The anthropologist groggily knocked his hand away from her face. "Booth?" she asked, rubbing her head with one of her hands.

Helping Brennan to her feet, Booth smiled cheekily at her. "You know what?" he asked mockingly.

"What?" asked Brennan, slowly recovering from her unconsciousness.

"_You_ shot a guy!" he exclaimed. He pointed to a nearby police car that must have arrived when Brennan was out of it. A grimy looking Samuel Browder sat in the back seat, staring at the sight of Booth and Brennan together.

"Another man who'll swear revenge on us," Booth commented. "Eh, what's new?"

"Where'd the other one go?" Brennan suddenly asked, looking around expectantly.

Booth looked down at his feet ashamedly. "Yeah, about that… he sorta jumped a fire escape and, well… escaped." Despite the severity of the situation, he almost smirked upon hearing his own pun.

"Where'd the bullet enter?" Brennan asked. Since Browder hadn't _died_, she should feel pleased with herself, but she still wanted to know just how good a shot she was.

"Right in the back of the left leg. Not enough to paralyze, but he'll have a limp from now on."

"Right…"

"Are you okay?" Booth asked concernedly. "You don't seem yourself."

The anthropologist looked at him. "Did you manage to I.D. the other man?"

"No," Booth admitted, "But I did snap some pictures of his face with my phone. They're not great, but Angela should be able to work with them. Maybe fix the resolution, zoom in. You know, camera stuff."

0-0-0-0-0

"Got anything yet, Angela?" Brennan inquired, coming into Angela's office.

Her friend swiveled around, shaking her head. "I'm still trying to fix the resolution and clear up the face. Booth's not much a of a camera man. Most of his shots are pretty much useless, but I'm keeping them just in case."

"Just in case of what?"

"I have to take bits and pieces of each picture to form a realistic version of the face. It doesn't always work, but it may be our last resort."

Brennan nodded understandingly. "Do what you have to," she said unnecessarily, pivoting around on her heel and leaving.

Several yards away, Zack and Booth were talking as they noticed Brennan leaving.

"Something's up with her," said Booth, squinting his eyes suspiciously. "But I'm not exactly sure _what_…"

"Is Dr. Brennan troubled somehow?" Zack asked worriedly. "Did something happen when the two of you went out earlier?"

"Nah…" said Booth, not paying enough attention to bring up the shooting incident. Then realizing his error, he quickly told Zack what had transpired in the alley.

"Brennan _shot_ someone!" Zack yelled incredulously. Acting on instinct, Booth covered his boyfriend's mouth with a hand, stifling the outburst so as not to alert everyone.

"Keep it down, alright!" commanded Booth, wiping off his hand. Instantly growing softer, he smirked. "You know, we _did_ catch one of the criminals. The case is at least half-solved."

"Doesn't that mean that you should be heading into interrogation right now?"

"Damn," Booth muttered, "Didn't see that coming. But hey, Squint. All work, no play."

Starting to walk out, Booth grinned as he heard Zack say after him, "Maybe we'll have to make some more exceptions to the no play part."

0-0-0-0-0

"What kind of an idiot do you think I am?" Booth shouted, his face not three feet from Samuel Browder. They were together in an interrogation room, Browder's eighty-something-year-old lawyer accompanying them.

"I don't know what you mean," muttered Browder, averting his eyes. He was obviously a bad liar. "What makes you think that?"

"Oh, say, because a murdered body turns up on your estate. Then, surprises of surprises, I catch you _red-handed_ at a warehouse with both illegal drugs _and_ the murder weapon."

"The murder weapon?" Browder asked innocently, trying to earn himself some sympathy points.

"Don't play dumb," retorted Booth, "You know exactly what I mean. Bugs, Browder. Bugs. The kind that don't really mind tearing through the soft pink stuff that covers our bodies."

"Those aren't mine," Browder cried out unconvincingly. "Those are… the other guy's."

"Then why don't you tell us who that 'other guy' is? It'd save you a world of trouble if we managed to bring him in."

The prisoner was silent for several minutes, glancing back and forth from his sleeping legal counsel and the formidable FBI agent in front of him.

"Okay!" Browder finally cried out in exasperation. "I'll tell you who he is."

"And where to find him," Booth pushed.

"That too."

As Brennan watched through the one-sided window, she felt a small sense of relief. Rather than a weight being lifted off her shoulders, though, she felt somewhat more at peace, as if coming closer to catching the murderer would make that much of a difference.


	15. Thoughts Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

"We haven't been too hard-pressed on interrogating people, have we?" wondered Booth aloud as he and Brennan buckled their seat belts. "I mean, that's the second guy that's cracked in less than twenty minutes."

"Maybe you're just becoming more effective," Brennan suggested, unintentionally stroking her partner's ego.

"Really?" said Booth. Pondering this for a moment, he shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe, maybe not."

The frightened, miserable Samuel Browder had filled the pair in on the entire tale of drugs and murder. For starters, the man who'd run away was his partner, Beau Hermann. The two had forged a drug dealing business with the help of a former prostitute named Miranda Trent.

Unfortunately, one of Browder's household employees, by name of Cameron Brockman, soon discovered the trio. He followed the three to the Baltimore dump site, confronting them in order to get in on the profits. Rather than allow something like that to happen, Hermann knocked the boy out, talking about getting something done about him later.

Freaking out, Miranda began to talk about calling an ambulance or the police. Considering her more of a threat than the young man, Hermann tied her up, viciously torturing her.

Browder confessed to raping the woman with his partner.

A few hours later, Hermann tired of his game. He released Miranda from her bonds only to come up from behind to snap her neck.

For a few months, Browder and Hermann had been stockpiling on illegal, flesh-eating insects bought from overseas. They had a select clientele of collectors, entomologists, and ordinary assassins who wanted to purchase the bugs. Deciding to take advantage of their product, Hermann took Cameron Brockman out on the edges of the Browder estate. He sliced the man's stomach open just enough to avoid death, then poured insect larvae and adults all over him.

They left Brockman to die, only coming back once to bury him and try to clear away some of the insects to avoid forensic research.

Now, Browder claimed, Hermann was on his way to the Potomac River to catch a freight boat out of D.C.

0-0-0-0-0

The car tires screeching on the pavement in front of a boat dock preceded the sight of Booth and Brennan running down the ramp to where all sorts of ships were berthed.

Coming to an office type building, the duo quickly entered to find a sleepy looking receptionist sitting at a dirty counter. The bell on the door barely stirred the woman, who continued to stare blankly across the room.

Slapping his hand on the counter, Booth looked directly at the woman while pulling out his FBI badge. "I need to know if there's anything leaving this dock in the next hour or so.

"There's a freighter about to head out," she replied, glancing down at a schedule. "But you've only got five minutes to get there." She pointed to the left, indicating which way the two should go. "It's dock number thirty seven."

Wooden planks rumbled underneath their feet as they flew down the dock. An old, rusted freighter was hauling its anchors up just as Booth and Brennan rounded the corner to see it.

"Booth, that's number thirty seven!" Brennan shouted.

Gaining momentum, Booth managed to jump across the water, grabbing a hold of a dangling rope. He pulled himself over, bringing his gun to position.

"Stop the ship!" he yelled, pointing his gun with one hand and brandishing his badge with the other. "FBI business!"

The freighter's crew, panicked by his sudden appearance, nevertheless followed Booth's orders. They slowly brought the ship back to berth, allowing Brennan to get on. In the meantime, Booth searched earnestly for any sign of Beau Hermann.

In the warehouse below, a shadow ran across Booth's peripheral vision. Turning around, he peered intently, waiting to notice the slightest change in color or shape. He wasn't disappointed; within a few minutes, the figure hiding in the darkness bolted.

"Hermann, freeze!" Booth commanded, chasing after him. The man ran upstairs back onto the deck, into sunlight. As Booth followed, the criminal pulled out a revolver, aiming at the agent's chest.

Not quite in sight, they then heard Brennan's voice calling out her partner's name. The ship's crew had long since evacuated, leaving the dangerous encounter between criminal and law enforcer well enough alone.

"You want me to shoot her?" Hermann asked, his voice strained and cracking, the voice of a man who knows that he's cornered. "You want her to die?"

"Brennan!" Booth yelled, "Don't…" A gunshot rang out.

"Booth!" screamed Brennan, just coming upon the scene. She could see her partner and friend lying on the deck, bleeding from his stomach.

Hermann turned to her, about to shoot, when Brennan acted instinctively. The criminal crumpled, blood pouring from his chest.

Simultaneously, Brennan ran to Booth's side. Tears ran down her face as she cradled him with one arm; with the other, she dialed 911.

"I have an agent down," she said, recovering just enough to relay the necessary information. She proceeded to give the ambulance an address, then hanging up.

"Booth…" she sighed. Her friend looked up at her, his eyes not yet glazed over, his mouth moving.

"Bones…" he whispered, "Tell Zack…" He stopped.

"Shhh," Brennan ordered, pushing a finger to his lips. "You'll tell him yourself."

_Author's Note: This is the penultimate chapter in this story._


	16. Thoughts Fin

_I am really sorry for everyone who liked this story and who want a conclusion. Due to time management problems, I have finally posted the final chapter of my story, though this might not be considered my best work. Anyways, this should be a suitable conclusion._

Chapter Sixteen

_Beep_. _Beep. Beep. Beep._

All Zack could hear was the sound of the heart monitor as he sat by Booth's side in the hospital room. Both he and Brennan had remained with him throughout the night, watching for any sign of improvement.

Right now, Brennan was out getting coffee for the two of them. After catching only three or four hours of sleep apiece, some sort of caffeine was desperately needed.

"Knock, knock," came a voice from the doorway. Angela, Hodgins, and Camille stood there, holding a "Get Well" balloon. Their faces indicated the level of sympathy that they were feeling for him, not to mention Booth.

"When's his surgery?" Cam asked, not one for unnecessary, soppy condolences.

The former grad student raised his head drowsily. "In three hours. But they said he should be fine until then. And during. And after."

"So, good news!" said Angela, trying to seem cheery. "I mean, at least Booth's going to live."

"_Should _live," Zack whispered. "Booth _should_ live."

Entering the room again, Brennan handed Zack a cup of coffee. "Anything?"

"No," he answered.

0-0-0-0-0

Seven hours later, Zack and Brennan were finally allowed back into Booth's hospital room. By now, the man was halfway conscious; at least he was sitting up in his bed.

"Hey, you," he said drowsily, reaching a hand out towards his boyfriend. "Guess I've kinda put you two through the ringer, huh?"

"No more than you," Brennan answered. "I think getting shot in the stomach, ripping through your stomach, and then having the organ repaired beats waiting miserably for news of a loved one."

"Does she know how… to be literal… or what?" Booth said grinningly, his eyes fluttering shut from time to time. He patted the free space on the bed, looking at Zack.

Loyally, Zack sat down on the bed beside the patient, wrapping an arm around him and kissing him gently on the cheek.

Moving to the side, Brennan occupied a chair. Now that Booth was out of danger, his friend and boyfriend were remaining with him for support.

"Hasn't anybody else… bothered to show up?" Booth asked, looking around for signs of the other Squints.

"They came earlier for a while," Zack answered, "But they had to leave. New case or something."

"And having to work without their best people, too," Booth laughed softly, trying to soften the pain that such an action caused him.

"We'll see."

0-0-0-0-0

Three weeks later, the entire Squint team cheered loudly as Booth entered the Jeffersonian lab.

"Yeah, yeah…" he said, waving them away with his hands, a grin plastered on his face. Zack pushed his wheelchair, showing off the victim to everybody.

An enormous chocolate cake took up half a table, plates and forks piled up high. Large balloons decorated the entire room, making everything seem cheerier. Angela and Hodgins had thrown streamers around before hanging up a sign that read "Welcome Back, Booth."

Each person taking food and drink, the six co-workers and friends enjoyed themselves, reveling in Booth's recovery. All memory of horrific hour-long hospital visits were temporarily erased, left to be pondered another day.

Tapping his plastic cup in an imitation of crystal, Booth called attention to himself. Not being able to stand up, he remained seated and waited until everyone else did the same.

"First, I want to thank Bones for saving my life," he said, nodding his head towards his partner. "Without her, I'd be really dead."

Traditionally, the other Squints clapped at the cheer. Quickly, they grew silent, seeing that Booth wasn't done speaking.

"My second thanks goes to Zack. He's stood by me throughout the past few weeks, helping me with everything."

Another round of clapping.

"Lastly, I want to thank you all. I know that you've still had to work, but you all found time to cook us dinner, to help out with my dry-cleaning, and other things… I'm very lucky to have you all as friends."

Tears appeared in everyone's eyes. Their friend's emotional, if short, speech touched them all.

Zack went over to stand behind his boyfriend, placing his hands on the man's shoulders. The two wheeled away, leaving the party behind them.

Going into Angela's office for a bit of privacy, Zack leaned forward, kissing Booth squarely and firmly on the lips.

"I am _so_ glad you didn't die," he said dryly.

Pulling the man towards him, Booth sat Zack down on his lap. "I bet you are," he laughed, kissing Zack back. "But you know… I can't really do much with this bullet wound in my chest."

"That's all right," Zack assured. "Just being here with you is enough."

As if in a final dramatic conclusion, the men slowly brought their lips together once more, a clear image of their affection for each other.

"I love you," whispered Booth into Zack's ear.

"You do? Funny… I love you too."

_FIN_


End file.
